PopArt columnist / ukulele maven MJ Hibbert is slightly too classy to be consider for CSTB’s semi-regular Bidding War Alert. Kuff & The Buttheads surely must feel Hibbert breathing down their neck. (video link courtesy Jason Cohen)
The Philadelphia Inquirer’s Frank Fitzpatrick asks:
Now that coaches must wear helmets, how many will the Dodgers’ Larry Bowa shatter this season?
The early line is none…. From a story that was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs:
Bowa did not wear a helmet during the Dodgers’ Grapefruit League opener Thursday against the Braves, the first time he was required by rule to do so.
“That’s not for me,” said Bowa, a former player and manager in the Major Leagues in his first year with the Dodgers. “My question is, how can I be in the league 40 years and the league says who wears a helmet and who doesn’t? One guy got killed and I’m sorry it happened. But bats break and they can be a deadly weapon. Do something about bats.
“Umpires get hit with line drives. I’ve probably seen 50 of them get hit. If coaches have to wear helmets, umpires should. I’ll sign a waiver. And there should be a grandfather clause. These are very cumbersome. They talk about delay of game, and when the helmet falls off, you’ll have to stop the game. It should be an option. I know I’m talking for a lot of guys who won’t say anything. I’ll write a check for 162 games if I have to to not wear it.”
Philosophically, it’s hard to say he’s wrong, especially since the ball that killed Mike Coolbaugh didn’t hit him in the head. And who’s to say a line drive couldn’t do to someone what a puck did to Chris Pronger? Can you imagine Bowa in a chest protector?
The Mets and Cards are tied at 3 after 5 innings in Port St. Lucie, the day’s highlight thus far coming on Juan Gonzalez’ 3-run HR in the first inning off Johan Santana. As the contest dragged on, Gary Cohen wondered aloud about the wisdom of pitchers running in the outfield and foul territory during spring training games. While Cohen dismissed the practice as “an anachronism”, Keith Hernandez insisted “the fans love to see the great players” (doing wind sprints, presumably). Ron Darling (above), however, had what should’ve been the last word on the subject, opining “if you see a pitcher get lit up for 5 or 6 runs, I doubt you’ll see him running on the field afterwards”.
(UPDATE : Cardinals 4, Mets 3. Albert Pujols greeted the recovering Duaner Sanchez with a solo shot in the top of the 6th. Darling claims Sanchez has lost 25 pounds in the off-season, presumably the result of fewer late night cab rides to tasty eateries.)
Newsday’s Laura Rivera reports that WBLI’s Randy is unlikely to get any sort of prize from the Mastic, NY Chamber Of Commerce.
On Wednesday, Randy (above), a co-host on “BLI in the Morning” on WBLI, asked a caller from Mastic: “Did your pipes freeze under the trailer, or do you have that stuff down there to keep them warm?”
The caller, who was entering a contest, said she lived in a house and was “very angry” with him, to which Randy replied: “Just think, if you win this game, the whole trailer park will be excited.”
Station managers asked Randy to apologize on Thursday’s show, but he never did, co-host Dana DiDonato said.
“At this point, a hollow apology and a mere suspension will not be appropriate,” said William Floyd School District Board President Bob Vecchio, who called for Randy to be fired and for area residents to boycott the station and its advertisers. “You can’t get a free pass when you attack an entire community.”
Not to take issue with Pres. Vecchio, but this isn’t even close to the most offensive thing Randy’s done.
Weeks after the Guardian’s Steven Wells checked out the phenomenon that is Sons Of Ben, the worst kept secret in American’s 6th or 7th most popular professional sports league was confirmed yesterday. From the Philadelphia Inquirer’s William Bender.
After months of speculation and political wrangling, Major League Soccer announced that, in 2010, Philadelphia will become its 16th team, playing in a 20,000-seat stadium to be built on the Chester waterfront.
The team, which will be named with fan input, already has an unprecedented level of support for an expansion franchise, said MLS commissioner Don Garber. And it would likely alter the dynamic of the I-95 rivalry between New York and D.C. United – perhaps siphoning some South Jersey fans in the process.“I live in New York and I know what it’s like for Giants fans to attend a game at the Linc,” Garber said. “I know what it’s like to be a Mets fan and try to go down and attend a Phillies game.”
Wait until Red Bull fans meet the Sons of Ben in Chester.
“There’s already some animosity between their supporters club and our people,” said Dan Ryazansky, who runs MetroFanatic.com, a site frequented by the Empire Supporters Club and other New York soccer fans.
“I’ve never seen this level of interest from the public sector, never have had a supporters’ group the size of Sons of Ben before a team’s ever launched,” Garber said after yesterday’s announcement at the Wharf at Rivertown, which adjoins the Chester stadium site. “I think there’s something very special being incubated here in Philadelphia for Major League Soccer.”
Former Tampa Bay / Metro Stars executive Nick Sakiewicz has been installed as the club’s first CEO, and while he’s unquestionably qualified for such a position, Philly Phans might well gaze longingly at the star power another MLS franchise has brought to the boardroom. Sure, Sakiewicz knows the league, but how does he look in fishnets?
Interesting stuff this Friday morning from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer’s Art Thiel, who quotes King County executive Ron Sims predicting the Emerald City’s long-term NBA future lies not in keeping the Sonics, but in convincing the owners of another failing franchise (New Orleans, Memphis) to move. As for Seattle’s present present hoops team, Sims figures the situation to be hopeless.
“David Stern is not going to stand in Clay Bennett’s way, because Stern likes his teams to be able to move,” Sims said by phone Thursday. “Bennett (above) so far does not want to sell, since he has six first-round draft picks over the next few seasons and likes what he has.”
Even in the likely event of a June defeat in federal court for his attempt to get out of the club’s KeyArena lease, Bennett, in Sims’ view, will endure the necessary losses to relocate the team in 2010 to his hometown of Oklahoma City.
Super Sonic Soul’s Peter Nussbaum would probably change the word “endure” to “embrace” as the current Sonics seem to exist purely to build a foundation in another market.
The franchise of Payton, Kemp, Gus, DJ, Lenny, Haywood, Rule, Mac-10, Karl, Sam … reduced to a probable 22-win season, and this coming off consecutive 30-odd win seasons?
I don’t think it would be unrealistic to expect the Sonics to enter the lottery again next spring, considering the odds of them picking up any true help this summer is somewhere between slim and none. Short of dealing away the entire non-Durant portion of the roster for more expiring contracts, this team just doesn’t look capable of winning 30 games next year, either.
Thanks alot, NBA. I didn’t know it was possible to destroy a 40-year-old business in the span of two years, but, well, when you’ve got Clay Bennett doing David Stern’s dirty work, I guess anything is possible.
Sam Cassell and PJ Brown are Boston bound, Devin Harris’ Nets debut was a smash and the Mavs and Spurs are in the middle of a scintillating heavyweight battle….yet, I expect you to watch a video clip hailed by Yahoo’s J.E.Skeets as “one of the most awkward interviews I have ever seen.”
It’s rough, granted, but this one’s worse.
Red Sox LF Manny Ramirez blew off Boston’s visit to the White House yesterday, a situation that has Odds & Sods wondering, “is Manny Ramirez a liberal?” Hey, I thought veterans were generally excused from long trips to bullshit exhibitions.
The Red Sox have met with the President twice during the Bush Administration, after each World Series victory. Both times, Manny Ramirez has chosen not to attend.
In 2005, Manny received an “excused absence” from the club, with Johnny Damon stating that he was caring for a sick grandmother. Today, the president joked “Manny Ramirez isn’t here. I guess his grandmother died again.”
There are many plausible explanations for the pair of absences. Manny was putting extra time in at the gym. He was comfortable in Fort Myers and didn’t want to leave. He may have been too busy selling personal belongings on eBay.
However, for the man who once skipped a game to take his citizenship test and proudly ran out into left field with an American flag the next day, meeting the President of the United States would surely be an honor?
Could this be a political statement by Mr. Ramirez? Have Republicans’ bombastic boasts about immigration and the Spanish language soured him? Has his status as a constitutional scholar emboldened him to protest the prone condition with which Cheney and other Bush appointees have held that document?
In Green Bay’s defense, they’ve gotta be ready, just in case. It’s kinda like someone at Spin.com having to be ready for a Weiland O.D.
Wojohowicz helpfully forwarded an item from Mother Jones concerning the use of music in U.S. military prisons as a means of eliciting confessions, intelligence, etc.
I’m use the Pentagon know exactly what they’re doing. But if someone wanted to torture me to the point of taking the rap for the killing of Charles Lindbergh Jr., there’s only one band that could do the trick.
By the numbers, R.A. Dickey (above) is the sort of person known mostly to either dorks (so, you know guilty as charged) or fans of the teams he’s played for. Who in turn know him as a guy who delivers a marginally effective long-relief stint here and there. And while his Baseball Reference page suggests that he is indeed that dude, an article from yesterday’s New York Times explains that Dickey is 1) an unlikely medical oddity and 2) now a knuckleballer, tossing a strange, 77-MPH version of the pitch. Your knuckleball cultists of the world — the faculty at the Candiotti Institute, Rob Neyer — will be interested to hear about the second part, but I’m kind of struck by this, from early in Allan Schwarz’s piece:
In an age when more and more pitchers have ugly scars crawling up their elbows, where surgeons’ scalpels have replaced their ulnar collateral ligaments in what is known as Tommy John surgery, Dickey does not need to worry about strains or painful pops.
He does not have an ulnar collateral ligament in his right elbow. None. Dickey either was born without one, or the tissue simply disintegrated when he was a teenager.
A dozen years after discovery of his situation cost him a virtual million-dollar payday, when he was told to give up his dreams of becoming a major league pitcher, Dickey today is one of the most intriguing players in any spring training camp. He did not just prove skeptics wrong by building a career that has included brief stays in the big leagues. Now 33, Dickey has reinvented himself as a knuckleballer, one promising enough that he could prove quite valuable in 2008 and beyond.
“For him to be able to throw at all is pretty phenomenal in itself,” said Rick Griffin, the Mariners’ head athletic trainer. “But he’s doing it in the major leagues. People in sports amaze you physically, but this is something you’d never suspect. It’s like a running back in the N.F.L. having no anterior cruciate ligament in his knee. It’s amazing.”
…“It’s a real blessing now,” Dickey said. “I’m real resilient, simply because I don’t have to worry about that ligament being sore, or tearing it. There’s nothing to tear.”
After 15 years in the big leagues, it’s nothing but Saturdays off from here on in. From the New York Post’s Mark Hale :
Right fielder Shawn Green, who played with the Mets for the last year and a half and spent parts of 15 seasons in the majors, told The Post yesterday that he has retired.
“I had planned on retiring at the end of this contract,” the 35-year-old Green said yesterday in a phone conversation. “If something where I could live at home popped up, then I would have had to take that under consideration. But I still don’t know what I would have done.”
That decision never really had to be made.
The affable Green, a former member of the 30-30 club who once smashed four homers in one game, wrapped up his tenure with the Mets last season. He said yesterday that a bunch of teams then showed interest in him, but he indicated that he simply wasn’t willing to be that far from his California home.
Indeed, not everyone is cut out for the Long Island Ducks.
I don’t know if Kenny G is really Miguel Batista’s “musical idol” (”I’m reminded of the time Dick Allen met his idol Paul Mauria”, writes Repoz), but who else would the Seattle hurler discuss “breathing techniques” with? Not that J.J. Putz doesn’t have an interesting method, mind you.
Not shown : Jeff Greenfield getting bleached.
To quote Hal Hartley’s Simple Men, “The difference … is I just fucked with the law, he fucked with the government.” Which is the line Roger Clemens crossed when he went under oath on taking illegal steroids and then lied to Congress about it. By challenging the Mitchell Report, Clemens isn’t dealing with a patsy like Bud Selig anymore. As ESPN’s Mark Fainaru-Wada reports:
(Clemens, above, will be signing this week at the FBI’s J. Edgar Hoover Building)
An 18-page memorandum compiled by congressional staff members provides a damning analysis of statements given under oath by Roger Clemens — underscoring a perjury case that could be looming for the seven-time Cy Young winner.
The document, released Wednesday by Rep. Henry Waxman, D-Calif., the majority leader of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, lists “seven sets of assertions” Clemens made during his Feb. 5 deposition and Feb. 13 testimony that are “implausible” or “appear to be contradicted by other evidence before the Committee.” (Read the complete memorandum here.)
The memo is described as an analysis created by majority staffers at the request of Waxman, whose committee has played a central role in investigating performance-enhancing drug use by professional and Olympic athletes. Earlier this month, the committee took depositions and heard testimony from, among others, Clemens and his former personal trainer Brian McNamee, who described the pitcher’s extensive use of performance-enhancing drugs.
Clemens has vehemently and repeatedly denied ever taking steroids or human growth hormone, but those denials — and others — are highly suspect, according to the congressional analysis.
The document, at various points, describes Clemens’ statements as “not truthful,” “implausible,” “contradicted” and called “into question.” In one section, the memo suggests there is “evidence that Mr. Clemens affirmatively sought to mislead the Committee.”
Kudos to the St. Louis Cardinals organization for proving that while they’re powerless to stop their manager from driving drunk, they’ll not tolerate similar behavior from one of their players (presuming he’s alive to punish). From the St. Louis Post-Dispatch’s Tim O’Neil :
An arrest warrant has been issued by the Irvine Police Department for Cardinals utilityman Scott Spiezio (above, first from right) on six charges stemming from a crash in late December.
The warrant alleges driving under the influence, driving under the influence with a blood alcohol content of .08 percent or more, hit and run, aggravated assault, assault and battery.
This afternoon, the Cardinals released a statement saying, “The ballclub is immediately releasing player Scott Spiezio in response to a six-count arrest warrant issued for Spiezio today.”
Cardinals manager Tony La Russa told an Associated Press reporter in Jupiter that he did not have specifics on the warrant and had not spoken to Spiezio.
“I had heard there was an incident in California,” La Russa said. “I didn’t think anything would come of it.”
A tune-up to the 2008 Grapefruit League slate saw the Mets play to a 4-4 tie with the University Of Michigan on Tuesday, with their closer taking particular umbrage at….having to come off the mound to field a bunt? From Newsday’s David Lennon :
Forget the Phillies. Billy Wagner (above) nearly started a beanball war with the University of Michigan after one overzealous Wolverine tried to bunt on him in the fourth inning. With a runner on second and one out, centerfielder Kevin Cislo pushed his bunt foul.
Wagner, clearly annoyed, shook his head a number of times, and Cislo wisely swung away, grounding out. Wagner said he couldn’t believe that Cislo, a junior, bunted.
“If he got that bunt down, I would have drilled the next guy,” Wagner said. “Play to win against Villanova.”
“He couldn’t bring himself to drill the kid,” Willie Randolph said. ” Nolan Ryan might have. Nolan or Roger [Clemens] may have done it, kid or not.”
The game ended in a 4-4 tie, but the big loser was Notre Dame alum Aaron Heilman, who has to sing the Michigan fight song in the clubhouse after allowing a run. “Hail to the Victors” was played over the stadium speaker in the first inning.
“I heard it and it made my stomach cringe,” Heilman said.
Mike Pelfrey tossed two innings of scoreless, one-hit ball in the Mets’ 4-2 loss to Detroit earlier today. Willie Collazo allowed all 4 Tigers runs in the 7th, including a two-run single to non-roster invitee Wilkin Ramirez. Magglio Ordonez left the game after being plunked by Pedro Feliciano in the 5th inning. Presumably, Mags wasn’t trying to bunt. But you never about these sneaky players representing the Great Lakes State.
Eschewing the flurry of player movement that went down yesterday in the big time, the Guardian’s touristy Ian Windwood attended a Las Vegas Wranglers (ECHL) game and declares, “hockey not only exists but actually flourishes outside of the NHL .” And he managed to plug the only sports book written to date by a CSTB contributor, too. Until Ben Schwartz’ “My Dinner With Dusty” finally finds a publisher, anyhow.
Even as the Zamboni machine rolled its way up the ice prior to face-off, it was clear that things were not as I had imagined them to be. In a cab on my way to the 9,500-seat Orleans Arena, part of the new and hellishly impressive hotel and casino complex of the same name, I pictured a deserted barn and hockey that was nothing but fists and insults. Basically, I imagined Slap Shot. Imagine my surprise, then, to discover an arena busy with at least 8,000 hockey fans, the majority of whom were as passionate as they were knowledgeable about the game being played before them.
The Las Vegas Wranglers are a very minor league hockey team. They are the feeder club for the Quad City Flames, who in turn are the feeder club for the NHL’s Calgary Flames. Not wishing to hurt the players’ feelings, I lowered my voice to tell my companion that the participants she was watching were unlikely ever to make it to the National Hockey League. Meanwhile, Tony was grabbing his Blackhawks top and yelling at the Salmon Kings that this was the closest they were ever gonna get to an NHL jersey. Maybe so, but that didn’t alter the fact that tonight’s hockey match saw the game played to a superior standard.
Yes, the ice may have been bad, but the ice is bad at Madison Square Garden as well, and that ain’t in the desert. Despite this being the penultimate Saturday in February, the temperature had been 70 degrees all day. On the ice the Salmon Kings and the Wranglers controlled the puck with crisp, precise passes; they unloaded deadly slapshots, deft wristers; they back checked and fore checked. Much to my amazement, no one fought. In fact, to my foreign eye the two teams appeared to do everything that players in the NHL can do, just at a fraction of the cost.
In his book Zamboni Rodeo, Texas-based journalist Jason Cohen spends a season with the minor league Austin Ice Bats. Paid hundreds rather than tens of thousands of dollars per week, hockey life at this level is markedly different from its NHL equivalent. It’s a world of all-night bus rides, early-morning practice sessions at rinks in deserted shopping malls, fast food and an uncertain living. As I looked at the Salmon Kings players just inches in front of me I found myself wondering about each man’s story. As teenagers, did they imagine themselves playing for the Montreal Canadiens, and exactly when did they realise their talents would never reach that high? Did they have wives, children to support? Where were they staying tonight, and how the hell were they going to get home to a small island just off the west coast of Vancouver?
The Wranglers pay a return visit to the Salmon Kings tonight. I’ll take a wild guess that some combination of airplane, bus and boat did the trick.
From the Pittsburgh Gazette’s Gene Collier (thanks to Dave Martin for the link) :
Myron Cope, colorful sports broadcaster and reporter whose Terrible Towel remains the banner of the Steelers nation, has died.
In declining health since even before his 2005 retirement after a record 35 years of Steelers broadcasts, Mr. Cope died this morning of respiratory failure.
He was 79.
One of the last of the great sports characters, Mr. Cope’s life and career were nothing less than book-worthy, even if he had to write it himself. Twice.
“Double Yoi” it was called both times, the second an updated version of the original 2002 volume, the title immortalizing one of Mr. Cope’s signature exclamations, which, along with “Okle-dokle,” “Dumbkopf!”, and “How do?”, became so familiar to his radio and TV audiences.
He was best known as the squawking talisman of Steelers football and had the good fortune of arriving on the scene just as the ballclub was escaping some four decades of losing. Cope hit the glory road sprinting in 1970 and never lost momentum for the next 30 years. Locally, his celebrity dwarfed many of the players, even those of Super Bowl pedigree, and was surpassed by only a very few.
Regardless of the ever-more-corporate-imaged NFL he’d walked into, Mr. Cope remained a wag and raconteur of a sporting era from the other side of that transition. Though he was riding the new Pittsburgh wave of Dan and Art Rooney Jr.’s strictly business acumen and seasoned football calculations, he still had both feet in the smoke-filled rooms and occasional “toddy’s” of Art Rooney Sr.’s world, which thrived on seat-of-the-pants adventurism.
Once at halftime in Cleveland, Cope found his intermission routine interrupted by an occupied restroom on old Municipal Stadium’s roof, which is where the radio booths were situated. His long-standing para-military ritual of urinate, get a hot dog, and get back to the action now jeopardized, he improvised. Without being too graphic, let’s just say that anyone walking by Municipal Stadium near that portion of the roof in the ensuring minutes had to wonder from where that sudden shower had come.
Mr. Cope’s magazine writing took its inevitable place among the nation’s very best. In 1963, he won the E.P. Dutton Prize for “Best Magazine Sportswriting in the Nation” for his portrayal of Muhammad Ali, then Cassius Clay.
“Cope’s columns in the Post-Gazette were in contrast to what had ever been in the paper, they were dazzling,” said Mr. McHugh, himself a writer of immense skills. “In the ’60s, there was a certain type of magazine style that no one was ever better at than Myron. He could talk to someone and extract all the humor possible from that person.”
In 1987, on the occasion of the Hearst Corp.’s 100th anniversary, Mr. Cope was named as a noted literary achiever, among them Mark Twain, Jack London, Frederick Remington, Walter Winchell and Sidney Sheldon.
From Reuters :
An Australian professional soccer player who attended a club celebration dressed as Adolf Hitler will be disciplined after Jewish groups complained, officials said Tuesday.German-born Andre Gumprecht, 33, attended a post-Grand Final ceremony Monday for his Central Coast Mariners team dressed in a khaki military uniform and mustache to resemble the former German dictator.
“Hitler was such a monster and for a lot of people, it’s a very sensitive thing to be confronted with,” Ernie Friedlander, a spokesman for the Jewish community group B’nai B’rith, told Australian newspapers.
Football Federation Australia chief executive Ben Buckley said he would be seeking an explanation from midfielder Gumprecht, who also runs a sporting academy for children.
“Such behavior is not only stupid, but is also not tolerated by the FFA,” Buckley said in a statement.
Gumprecht was born in Jena, in the former East Germany, and played second division soccer there before joining Australian team Perth Glory in 2002.
A second player, Tony Vidmar, who dressed as God for the “Mad Monday” celebration in the beachside resort of Terrigal, north of Sydney, donning white robes and blackening his face, would also face a disciplinary hearing, Buckley said.
Reviewing the incident with his typical insight, Will Leitch suggested these gentlemen have “a little trouble in the racial department”. As opposed to, say, a lot of trouble in the racial department.
I don’t claim to know everything about the job market, but it would seem to this observer like there’s not a huge demand for a washed-up QB who specializes in a) verbally abusing John Clayton b) sending photographs of his penis to disinterested colleagues.
On the other hand, maybe the McCain campaign could use a new master of ceremonies?
From USA Today’s Michael McCarthy :
ESPN said late Tuesday it was parting ways with longtime football analyst Sean Salisbury. The surprise announcement came only hours after the network announced its hiring of Cris Carter from HBO’s Inside the NFL.
“Sean Salisbury has made many contributions to our efforts for the past 12 years. We thank him and wish him all the best,” said ESPN spokesman Bill Hofheimer.
Salisbury said in a statement that he had “grown as much as I can at ESPN” and that he decided to expand his horizons with new opportunities in TV, radio, Internet, publishing, movies and public speaking. “My résumé speaks for itself as a football analyst, and I believe I can talk all sports with the best of them.”
Networks frequently shuffle their lineups in the offseason. Salisbury’s contract with ESPN was up, according to his agent Steve Mandell. “Sean is looking forward to the next phase of his career.”
From Deuce Of Davenport :
Johnny Bench is being honored on a limited edition bottle of Makers Mark at Kentucky’s Turfway Park. 3000 of these bottles have been made to commemorate their Lanes End Stakes. The booze will go on sale March 14th and proceeds benefit the Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame and Museum and the Johnny Bench Scholarship Fund.
Without sounding cavalier about the scourge of alcohol abuse in this great land of ours, Markers Mark is a fine product and this sounds like a very worthy cause. Had someone thought of this kind of thing earlier, a Bob Huggins commemorative bottle of well, anything could’ve been used to raise funds for any number of causes.
Says Cubs owner Sam Zell, on CNBC’s Squawk Box this AM: “I think … we’re going to fix the credit markets by creating a big enough spread between the risk-free cost of capital and what’s available so that greed overtakes fear and the game begins again.”
Nevermind lost houses, oil headed for $4 a gallon, or massive gov’t bank bailouts in the tens of billions, Zell understands it’s Democrats making the economy suck out loud, not reality:
(Obama, pictured, sabotages an otherwise
healthy economy.)
“Obviously what we have going on is an attempt to create a self-fulfilling prophecy,” said Zell, chairman of Equity Investments Group and owner of the Chicago Cubs, Chicago Tribune, Los Angeles Times and other companies. “We have two Democratic candidates who are vying with each other to describe the economic situation worse.
“The reality is that if you live on Wall Street and you’re in the credit markets the world couldn’t be worse. If you’re a farmer and you’re getting $25 for your wheat, you’re having a great time. If you’re a CEO and you’ve got a balance sheet that’s bullet-proof, you’re in a great position. This whole thing is way out of control, way out of hand.”
If it’s not Tracy McGrady, it’s Yao Ming. Sometimes it’s both. Usually it’s McGrady. But this time, with the Houston Rockets on a 12-game winning streak and Yao playing the best basketball of his career, it’s Yao. According to a terse Houston Chronicle report, Ming has a stress fracture in his left foot, and will be out for the rest of the season and the playoffs. Jonathan Feigen is slightly less terse on his Chronicle blog:
At a time the Rockets were going better than they have in a decade, not just winning games by the dozen but improving with more room to grow evident, the life was drained from the winning streak and the Rockets’ prospects.
This feels worse, though, than even that. No one so large has ever been asked to do what Yao has done for the Rockets. The previous giants were specialists. Those close in size that came close to his role – Arvydas Sabonis, Zydruynas Ilgauskas and Rik Smits – had foot and ankle problems that derailed their careers, but were able to eventually succeed. Bill Walton never was the same.
A stress fracture is far more foreboding than last season’s crack in his leg or the toe infection that required surgery. Those had the feel of fluke, the sort of things that happen. This seems more threatening.
We’ll know more when the doctors talk about his prognosis, but this feels dangerous.
It’s not quite that bad, Mr. Feigen. It’s very bad for the Rockets, who I think will indeed probably fall out of the playoffs in the super-competitive West. But I had a stress fracture as a cross-country runner back in high school, and I now lead a full, healthy life. Well, not full and not healthy. But unless Feigen is referring to the possibility of the Rockets signing ultra-stiff Jamaal Magloire (he’s available), I think “dangerous” is a bit of an overstatement.
UPDATE: The news itself hasn’t changed, but Henry Abbott, at TrueHoop, adds a bit of perspective not just in terms of what it means for big men to have bad feet, but about the international-relations dimension of Yao’s recovery and eventual return:
The relationship between the NBA, the Houston Rockets, and the Chinese government figures prominently in any and all matters Yao Ming. Even picking him first in the draft was not simple. Now, with Yao Ming slated to be the superstar showpiece of perhaps the most important sporting event in China’s recent history — the 2008 Beijing Olympics — there must be a hundred new ways these international relationships can be tested. With something this bad having happened, there will be blame to spread around, and future questions to work out. Will Yao Ming be ready to play in the Olympics? Whose decision will that be? Are the Rockets prepared to let the Chinese team make that call? And what about next season — now that China’s national basketball treasure has injured himself repeatedly Houston’s watch (he has also had a broken tibia) might there be concerns about his returning to the NBA at all?
Hey, it’s not all writing award-winning screenplays and making hit records. White people can play basketball, too! (not shown : special Hank Finkel cover for the Boston market).
While WBC champ Floyd Mayweather has yet to admit that “Dancing With The Stars ” is fake, he openly endorses the reality of WWE. “Wrestling takes care of business right on the spot,” Mayweather said. “Whatever they say they’re going to do, they do it right on the spot. There’s no waiting three, four, five months. Quick results, quick money. Quick big money, too.”
Mayweather has accepted a $20 million check from WWE’s Shane McMahon to wrestle The Big Show in WWE’s “WrestleMania XXIV” at Citrus Bowl in Orlando, Fla., on March 30. The AP’s Beth Harris reports that while boxing and dance fans may object to seeing Mayweather demeaned by appearing in public in spandex tights instead of shiny trunks or sequined vests and matching spats, one has to look at the big picture, as mapped out by Mayweather’s guru, Leonard Ellerbee.
The wrestling gig is another part of Ellerbee’s carefully crafted plan to expand Mayweather’s fan base.
“Either I’m going to be a genius with this or I’m the biggest idiot,” he said. “Boxers have such a short window of opportunity. He can’t become any bigger in boxing.”
That’s why Ellerbee snagged Mayweather a spot on ABC’s reality hit “Dancing With the Stars.” Mayweather didn’t win the disco ball trophy, but he wasn’t the first one voted off, either.
“It crossed him over and took him into the households of many middle-aged Middle Americans and turned him into a mainstream superstar,” Ellerbee said. “Now when Floyd goes into the grocery store, the first thing 65-year-old ladies say is, `You’re Floyd from `Dancing With the Stars.”’
Mayweather plans to train with WWE Latino star Ray Mysterio, who wears a mask on his face.
“I’m outside the box,” he said, lapsing into the third person. “Floyd Mayweather is not just a fighter, he’s an entertainer. That’s what the world must know.”
And with this item, culled from Red Sox Monster, we can officially dub Big Mo, Homo Universalis.
Mo Vaughn will headline the Red Sox Hall of Fame class of 2008, which also includes Man of the People Mike Greenwell, wildman Bill Lee, and several other players who put their mark on Red Sox history earlier in the 20th century.
This also gives me a chance to bring up some little known Mo Vaughn trivia: the man was a nerd for late 1970s/early 1980s sci-fi television.
How do I know this? How about the fact that he oversaw the restoration of a “spacecraft” from the terrifically cheesy TV series, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century?
From fxmodels.com (whatever that is) via Bostonist, which brought this up in 2006:
As part of a program initiated by Boston Red Sox player Mo Vaughn and in conjunction with Universal Studios, Florida, we refurbished one of Television’s most detailed and interesting spacecraft miniatures: the Draconia (above) from the Buck Rogers in the 25th Century series. Draconia was in VERY bad shape on arrival but much work was done as some of these photos show. There was much damage and a long way to go…
(God Save The Fran!)
Along with this morning’s accusations that Debbie Clemens and Jessica Canseco compared breast enhancement surgeries at the party-Roger-absolutely-denied-attending, the New York Times’ Harvey Araton drops the following tidbit regarding the infamous Nanny the Rocket so helpfully interrogated days before Congress could reach her.
A reading of an online transcript and a telephone call to the press office of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform revealed that Roger Clemens, aided by political muscle, distorted the linguistic skills of a former employee and grandmother of two.
“And her English, as I understand it, is not that good,” Tom Davis, the Virginia Republican and ranking minority committee member, cued Clemens at the Capitol Hill hearing earlier this month.
“It is not that good,” Clemens replied, seizing the opportunity to make the masses understand why the nanny had to be summoned to his Houston Ponderosa before her interview with committee investigators — for her own good, of course.
But Steven G. Glickman, counsel to the majority and a participant in the telephone interview, indicated through a committee press officer that the unnamed nanny spoke English that was only accented, not deficient.
For instance, when told she had the right to representation, the nanny replied she didn’t have a lawyer before adding: “But I’m not afraid, I’m telling the truth, so bring it on.”
Questioned about the dizzying timeline of Clemens’s appearance and exit, the nanny — again, not as verbally challenged as Davis understood her to be and Clemens agreed she was — cut to the heart of the matter, as it relates to the possibility of meaningful disclosure.
“Well, first of all, that’s kind of hard to tell because I wasn’t with him 24/7,” she said, speaking to the absurdity of the ongoing party dissection, 10 years after. With the exception of the Republican cheerleaders who allowed Clemens and his lawyers to set this smoke screen during the hearing, who actually believed it was ever germane to the McNamee claims of injecting Clemens with steroids and human growth hormone?
Everyone’s reputation was deemed sacrificial to Clemens’ own. His agents took hits for his troubles. His wife, Debbie, was exposed as an H.G.H. user. The nanny, whose interview included an eloquent expression of affection seven years after she left Clemens’s employ, was made to sound like someone who had just slipped into the country in the back of a truck.
“Have we ever had a manager who listened to Tupac Shakur?” asks the Cincinnati Enquirer’s Paul Daugherty. “You could just see Jerry Narron, groovin’ to the rhymes of Hit ‘Em Up, couldn’t’ you? Hi, I’m Dave Miley, and I can’t wait for the latest release from 2 Live Crew.’’ Replies BTF’s Repoz, “I’d be amazed if Dusty Baker listened to Bill James.”
The iPod in the deck on the corner of the manager’s desk is playing something carnal and raunchy. Tupac is suggesting this and that, none of it PG-13.“We got to go to Wal-Mart and get the clean version,’’ Dusty Baker allows. His 9-year-old son is a Tupac fan, and while Baker is all for Darren “learning about all kinds of cultures’’ the Tupac needs some rinsing.
Dusty Baker listens to all kinds of music. He had Buddy Guy on in the car on the way to Ed Smith Stadium Monday. “I got some Latin, some reggae, some rock. All kinds,’’ he said.
Dusty Baker might not be the world’s greatest manager. Then again, it’s only the 26th of February, so who’s to say? Just because Baker not only knows who Pinetop Perkins is (blues pianist), but was listening to him the last time we spoke, doesn’t mean he’ll lead the Reds from their Seven-Year Ache (Rosanne Cash, 1981.) It just makes the struggle more interesting.
When you discover a guy like Baker, you tap him like a sugar maple in Vermont. Baker calls the media “dudes.’’ He says a retirement goal of his is to become “a wine dude.’’ Far out.
No, Paul, this is “far out”. Still, whether or not the Reds show improvement in 2008, Dusty’s already shown that he’s got better musical taste than Bronson Arroyo. So does 99% of the human population, however, so never mind.
Though I’m not quite ready to call DC Sports Bog’s Dan Steinberg “one in a million”, he might actually be rarer than that. For instance, he actually bothered to listened to Tony Kornheiser’s radio show last Friday, a program in which the “PTI” lynchpin addressed the subject of bloggers. While discussing “American Idol”, of all things.
I don’t want to single anybody out in this area, but, you know, some people sit at home and they watch TV and they watch radio and they “blog” about certain “things,” and they think they know what they’re talking about, and they think they have sources. They have no sources. They make stuff up. They’re toads. They’re little toads. Actually, they’re pimples on the behind of the greater body politic in this country and in this city (everyone in the studio cackles for no reason). And because, because they have access to airwaves and three or four people read them, they think, ‘Oh, I’m very important.’
In fact, in fact, if a huge dumpster landed on their mother’s house (cackling), and got all the way into the basement and crushed them (more cackling), nobody would care. Nobody would miss them. They provide nothing good, no service that’s any good at all. They, they are, they are, they are sucking mole rats (more cackling), and that’s the nicest I can be to them. But because, because they have a name, or, you know, because they get feedback from others, you know, they think they’re very important.
I know, I know, above comments seem particularly knee-jerky and paranoid. But I’m fascinated by the possibility of flying dumpsters, much as I’d love to know exactly what service to humanity is being provided by Kornheiser kolleagues like Dan LeBatard.
Of course, there oughta be some distinction between “making stuff up” and merely expressing an opinion.
While I’ve somehow managed to escape Mike & The Mad Dog’s Oscar recap this afternoon, I’m pleased to report WFAN’s Craig Carton followed his recent swipes at Scott Stapp (ie. the former Jersey Guy claims to have once MC’d a festival gig “back when Creed were good”) with a spectacular interview with thespian Tom Selleck.
Amongst the highlights — Carton wondered if Tigers fan Tom was psyched for the upcoming season “since you got whathisname from Florida”, and suggested that “Magnum P.I.” must’ve been such a huge payday, surely Selleck no longer needs to work.
This story has a somewhat happier ending than James Dolan exchanging pleasantries with Knicks fans in New Orleans. From the Guardian’s Andy Hunter :
Tom Hicks Jr was made painfully aware of the ill-feeling towards his father’s ownership of Liverpool on Saturday when he was abused and spat at after the club’s victory over Middlesbrough.
The Liverpool director made the foolhardy decision to meet supporters in the Sandon public house, near Anfield, where drinkers rounded on him. Hicks Jr, son of Liverpool’s controversial co-chairman, Tom Hicks, arrived at the bar in a car with minders and discussed his father’s troubled reign with a few supporters drinking at the bar but, once word spread of his presence, the mood became hostile.
One Liverpool supporter spat in his direction and he was showered with lager before his minders rushed him into the waiting car and drove off . It is believed Hicks Jr ignored security advice not to visit the Sandon given the animosity towards his father and George Gillett.
Calling Hicks Jr.’s appearance, “a display of bravery beyond the call of family duty or crass stupidity and insensitivity, depending on your point of view”, The Liverpool Echo’s Tony Barrett has further details :
It isn’t exactly difficult to spot a sharp-suited American in a pub full of Adidas Samba wearing locals after all – and word spread around the boozer quicker than news of a goal against Man United.
Polite questioning reflected the shock that someone so closely connected with the least popular man at Anfield – apart from Gary Neville – would have the chutzpah to turn up in their midst.
A volley of protest songs – aired with increasing regularity on the Kop in recent months – rang out throughout the pub and the venom being directed at Hicks junior was plain for all to see.
All of a sudden, his smile was replaced by a grimace of concern.
And as the volume was cranked up still further by the swollen crowd, Tommy’s facial expression quickly changed.
It appeared to say “Get Me Out Of Here” to his bodyguards.
At best, it was a well meaning attempt to build some bridges on Hicks junior’s part.
At worst, it was yet another failure to understand English football culture and proof of the failure of Liverpool’s owners to grasp just how unpopular they have become.
After a weekend arguing with my Dad over the respective merits of the Democratic party’s remaining challengers, I had thought about posting Al Goldstein’s latest campaign video, but changed my mind after watching an older clip from Al’s salad days. Never mind Seinfeld spitting out mutton, this has to be the finest publicity the Old Homestead ever received.
Because I’d rather not gross anyone out this Monday morning, I’ll spare you the details of what happened the time I left Johan Kugelberg in charge of my apartment. However, I can say that after reading about what happened when Kiki Vandeweghe (above) and wife Peggy hired a pair of CSU students to watch his home and animals, Johan is no longer the Worst Pet Sitter In The World. From the Denver Post’s William Porter (link swiped from True Hoop) :
What all parties agree on is that Kiki and Peggy Vandeweghe hired twins Amy and Jenny Eskola to house sit their Cheesman Park manse.
Keeping Jenny company was the Vandeweghes’ schnauzer, Meister, and the bird, a variety of parrot called a conure. The birds are renowned for their beauty and sociability, although these virtues were apparently lost on the dog.
So it was curtains for Sweet Cheeks.
“It was horrible,” Jenny told me. “The cage was broken beforehand and the door was fastened with a twist-tie, and the bird somehow undid the tie.”
The conure enjoyed its brief freedom. Then the dog decided it was supper time.
“Meister bolted out of the room,” Jenny said. “I went in and there were little feathers all over the place.”
The Vandeweghes have refused to pay the young women for their housesitting. The sisters say they’re owed about $700, which is the $50-a-day fee they had earned up until the fur flew. So it’s off to small-claims court.
“I don’t know if we’re ever going to see anything, but it’s a shame,” mother Debbie Eskola said. “The girls have to earn their spending money so it’s a big deal for them. For Peggy Vandeweghe, it’s a pair of shoes.”
Monday’s Slate features an excerpt from The Bill James Gold Mine 2008 in which James explains why the Astros’ Craig Biggio went from being his favorite player this side of George Brett (”Biggio was the player who wasn’t a star, but who was just as valuable as the superstars because of his exceptional command of a collection of little skills—getting on base, and avoiding the double play, and stealing a base here and there, and playing defense”) to becoming, well, exactly the sort of player who’d be the subject of the following essay :
As Biggio moved closer to 3,000 career hits there came a general recognition of his status as a star player, which severed the bond that I felt to him when he was deserving of recognition that he wasn’t getting. Yes, he moved to center field and yes, he moved back to second base when they needed him back at second base, but in all candor, he was pretty awful in center field, and he was pretty awful defensively back at second base. I got tired of pretending not to notice.
In 2003 he hit .354 against pitchers with ERAs over 5.25 (64 for 181), but .143 against pitchers with ERAs under 3.50 (19 for 133). In 2004 he hit .382 with 10 homers in 110 at bats against pitchers with ERAs over 5.25. Every year he has had huge good pitcher/bad pitcher splits.
At some point, Biggio was hanging around to get 3,000 hits. On the one hand I was happy for him that he was going to get his 3,000 hits and pleased that he had proven to everybody that he was a great player, but it’s not something I really admire, hanging around to pursue personal goals. He couldn’t hit a good pitcher—never could, really. His career batting average in post-season play was .234, OPS somewhere around .600. His clutch hitting record is miserable.
I’m not picking on him, I hope, but the reason that Biggio struggled in clutch situations and against good pitchers couldn’t be more obvious. He was an overachiever, and he knew what he was doing. Against a weak pitcher, a pitcher not really in command of his material, Biggio could take control of the at bat and drive it toward a good conclusion. When the pitcher was not really focused, Biggio was. But when the pressure was on and there was somebody on the mound who knew what he was doing, Biggio had limited ability to step up. Maybe this was not as true in the 1990s. I hope. We’ll figure the data and put it online.
I’ll still say today, if there was a draft and you could look ahead and say, “OK, that guy’s going to be Ken Griffey, that guy’s going to be Frank Thomas, that guy’s going to be Juan Gonzalez, that guy’s going to be Tom Glavine, that guy’s going to be Craig Biggio,” just give me Biggio and I’ll take my chances. Maybe that’s not what the numbers say is the right answer, but Biggio was the guy who would do whatever needed to be done. Makes it a lot easier to build a team.
And then the story went on a little too long. You ever go to a movie, it’ s pretty good for about an hour and a half but then the story is over but it’s like the director can’t find the ending so it goes on for another half-hour looking for some way to tie things together? That’s kind of Biggio’s career; it was over, and then it went on for quite awhile.
The New York Daily News’ Frank Isola reports that while Garden chief James Dolan refuses to talk to his paper, the aspiring blues rocker cannot so easily escape the inquiries of Knicks rooters when he’s strolling the streets of The Big Easy.
A gentleman named Mark Haverly (standing to Dolan’s right) ran into the Knicks’ top decision maker on the street during All-Star Weekend in New Orleans and had an interesting conversation with Dolan.
“I explained I’m a long suffering Knicks fan and made reference to the suffering beginning around when he took over without saying it overtly. I said I appreciated the loyalty he clearly has, but at some point the results have to overrule loyalty, i.e. please fire Isiah.”
“He told me to be patient and said ‘look at the Celtics, where were they a year ago? Look at the Giants, where were they a year ago?’
“I politely explained, ‘Well, the difference with the Giants is they made the playoffs the last few years, you can’t say that. And the Celtics had cap space to acquire Garnett, you didn’t.’”
Haverly asked Dolan, who was accompanied by several Garden officials, “‘would you ever consider bringing back Jeff Van Gundy, a coach that could get these guys to play some defense?’” They all laughed at me. ‘He quit, there’s no coming back from that!’ Dolan said.”
“I responded, ‘Well, yeah…but why did he quit? And why did Marv Albert quit?’ Dolan said in a wink wink kind of way, ‘Marv didn’t quit’ – implying he was fired.
“I then made reference to all the good people that have left under his regime, the continued disgraceful record of both teams – save for the Rangers for one year maybe – and he again brought up the Celtics.
“So, for all us Knick fans out there I’m here to tell you there’s nothing to worry about…James Dolan himself told me next year we’ll be this year’s version of the Celtics. So about 40-10 come the break. No worries everybody, he’s got it all under control.”
Andrea Bargnani has 24 points (”pugnacious!” exclaims Clyde, silent thus far on the subject of Isiah’s pink tie) and the Raptors hold an 84-67 advantage on the Knicks with about a minute left in the 3rd quarter in Toronto.
With the Boston Globe’s Marc J. Spears claiming the Celtics and Hornets are showing interest in the currently-suspended Chris Anderson, it seems like an appropriate time to recall The Birdman’s struggles in the 2006 Slam Dunk Contest.
While the Patriots finished their season 18-1 and Memphis failed to preserve their perfect record, let’s have some recognition for the hapless Highlanders of the New Jersey Institute Of Technology. With Saturday’s 76-50 loss to Utah Valley State, NJIT became the Worst Division 1 Men’s Hoop Squad of All Time, topping the 0-28 mark of 1992’s Prairie View and 2005’s Savannah State teams. In today’s era of newsroom budget cuts, can you imagine how thrilled the Newark Star-Ledger’s Ben Webster must’ve been to accept a company trip to Orem, UT?
“Until today we thought we were going to win games,” said NJIT coach Jim Casciano (above), who announced his resignation last week but coached his team’s final game. “Whatever games we had left on the schedule we thought we were going to win.”
But a win never came, and the loss was the team’s 33rd straight, one shy of Sacramento State’s Division 1 record from 1997-99. Add to that, the Highlanders were the only Division 1 team this season with more turnovers (577) than field goals (550).
NJIT opened the season with a 70-28 loss to Manhattan, then Casciano took a 12-game leave of absence for what he revealed yesterday was a cancer scare, problems with diabetes and a bout with depression.
“If I hadn’t stepped back, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything,” he said.
Utah Valley State (14-14) ensured the Highlanders’ final game would be yet another loss with a 24-8 run to close out the first half. NJIT got as close as eight with just over eight minutes left but trailed 49-25 at halftime.
Ryan Toolson finished with a game-high 22 points for Utah Valley State. NJIT senior captain Kraig Peters, playing in his final game, led NJIT with 13 points.
“You can’t let it get to you,” Peters said. “There’s a lot of stuff that’s five times worse than this. I would never regret playing here.”
“When you’ve been beaten down and lost as much as we have there’s going to be that time in the game when it’s like ‘here we go again.’ That’s what happened today,” Casciano said. “Utah Valley played as well as they probably could in the first 10 minutes … but then I look up and it’s a 10-point game.”
It didn’t help NJIT when leading scorer Nesho Milosevic picked up his third foul with more than 11 minutes to go in the first half. With Milosevic forced to the bench, Peters became the sole focus of the Wolverines defense.
“It’s tough being the focus of teams every night,” Peters said. “It’s not tough just because this year, but it’s been tough last year and the year before.”
A header by Jonathan Woodgate four minutes into the extended session provided the margin of victory for Tottenham over Chelsea in Sunday’s Worthless Cup Final, and the Telegraph’s Henry Winter can barely believe the losers mounted such a feeble challenge, writing “it is hard to believe Nicolas Anelka joined from Bolton simply to mark Alan Hutton.”
To Woodgate the spoils, to Avram Grant the brickbats. Like a profligate heir, Grant has now squandered half the family silver he inherited from Jose Mourinho. Like a startled fawn, Chelsea’s manager failed to react when the team cried out for guidance, for inspiration. Steve Clarke delivered the rallying cry before extra-time. Grant listened.
A manager who never lost a cup final in England, Mourinho would have raged against the dying of the light, exhorting his players to find something extra, enacting one of his substitute master-strokes to vary Chelsea’s danger. The Blues’ huge army of support, who became so used to trophies under Mourinho, deserve better than Grant.
An authority figure? No chance. When Michael Ballack, Didier Drogba, Petr Cech and John Terry lost it with the excellent referee, Mark Halsey, at the final whistle, Grant froze again.
Only a timely run from his assistant, Henk Ten Cate, defused the tension. For all the recent eulogies to Grant about his being a high-class manager, even a worthy successor to Mourinho, the Far-From-Special One has faltered when the pressure has been most intense. Grant’s decision to start Frank Lampard ahead of the fitter Michael Ballack certainly backfired. Lampard is a magnificent thoroughbred, but he needed a few more runs on the gallops before such a demanding race as this.
With the quality of personnel at his disposal, Grant should be reaching finals. So he has failed his first big test. He was also asked by Roman Abramovich to make Chelsea more entertaining but there is a joylessness about Grant’s teams, a machine-like quality that will never endear Chelsea to neutrals or purists.
Man, what a difference a year makes. Last spring, Rangers hurler C.J. Wilson created a tiny buzz around the sports blogosphere when his MySpace comments to teammate Brandon McCarthy revealed something more suspect than a shared love of Chromeo. Today, however, John Rocker nemesis / Page 2’s Jeff Pearlman annoints Wilson as a notable exception in Texas’ army of clubhouse apathy. “While ballplayers are bound both by their disparate backgrounds and an uncompromised love of the game,” writes Pearlman, “they are also united by one not-so-great characteristic: political indifference.” Yeah, well, that and none of ‘em will profess to loving Savatage cock, either.
In this remarkable year of presidential politics — when John McCain has risen from the dead, and Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are engaged in a historic struggle for delegates; when dynamic figures like Rudy Giuliani and Ron Paul and John Edwards fell short but fought passionately — baseball players kick back and, ahem, read their Maxims.
“It’s frustrating,” says C.J. Wilson (above), the 27-year-old Texas relief pitcher. “I’d say there are two reasons. One, there’s a general lack of education among us. But two — and most important — you’re talking about a population that makes a ton of money, so the ups and downs of the economy don’t impact whether we’re getting paid. Therefore, we often don’t care.”
In saying “we,” Wilson is speaking about nearly every Ranger — except himself. A free-thinking Californian with an appreciation for Obama, a dislike of Bush, a hatred of the Clintons, a detestation of SUVs, and a longing for a grass-roots political movement that would truly represent the needs of the people, Wilson stares blankly when asked who among his teammates he can talk with about Decision ‘08.
“No one,” he says. “I keep it to myself.”
While a few Rangers profess moderate interest (”Obama’s inspired me,” says outfielder Jason Ellison. “I have a 2-year-old daughter and I want her to grow up in a healthy country”), most merely shrug their shoulders or offer a half-hearted “I’m just focused on playing ball and helping the team win,” when asked about the upcoming election. Some call themselves conservatives, others call themselves moderates, but few seem to actually know what the two terms mean. “It’s not that complex,” Wilson says. “Baseball players think about baseball.”
Not that this is simply a Rangers phenomenon. Throughout spring training clubhouses in Arizona and Florida, politics fail to generate interest. Finding someone who has participated in a state primary or caucus is slightly harder than finding a cinematic role for Meeno Peluce. The majority of players are almost certainly not even registered to vote. On the morning following last Tuesday’s highly publicized Wisconsin Democratic primary, nary a Ranger nor Kansas City Royal could be heard talking about the results. Heck, no one even seemed to know the event took place.
Indeed, a top 10 list of spring training topics discussed by ballplayers would look something like this:
1. Baseball
2. Free sunglasses
3. Breasts
4-5. Jesus/golf (tie)
6. Dinner options
7. The Kyle Kendrick YouTube video
8. Britney Spears
9. Strip clubs
10. More Jesus/golf (tie)
The Philadelphia News’ Todd Zolecki reports Phillies’ closer Brad Lidge will undergo knee surgery tomorrow and might be out of action for as much as 6 weeks. For Ed Wade, this might take a bit of the sting off the Miguel Tejdada acquistion.
Lidge, who reinjured his surgically repaired right knee Saturday while throwing live batting practice at the Carpenter Complex, had a MRI today in Clearwater. He said the MRI showed “no big, new tears, nothing substantially wrong. But enough on the medial side of the knee that would warrant a scope. We’re going to do a scope and clean out some of the small tears and get that done with, so it won’t bother me during the season.”
Lidge had two options:
1) Get the surgery.
2) Let it heal naturally.
“The scope has a pretty fast recovery time,” Lidge said. “Ideally, if everything went right I wouldn’t miss any of the season. That’d be a good 4 1/2 weeks (away). But that’ll be based on how it feels, obviously. Right now, if this came up again during the season and we had to do it then, then you’re obviously missing a big chunk of the season rather than a big chunk of spring training.
The Griddle’s Bob Timmerman reports that not only has Milwaukee’s Prince Fielder sworn off The Lucky (Meat) Gravy, but his inspiration came from a tome entitled “Skinny bitch in the kitch : kick-ass recipes for hungry girls who want to stop cooking crap (and start looking hot!)”. Imagine how much recent drama we’d have been spared if someone had purchased the same book for Debbie Clemens?
…even if the Pistons offered less money. Beef recalls be damned, Southgate, MI’s Mallie’s Sports Bar & Grill has a record-smashing murder burger in the works according to the Detroit Free Press’ Sylvia “Hector Versus” Rector :
At 150 pounds, including its specially made bun and multiple toppings, it’s designed to put Mallie’s in the Guinness World Records book for the largest commercially available hamburger; right now that’s a measly 123-pounder at a bar in Pennsylvania.”We’ve actually done this in-house several times, so it’s not a matter of whether we can do it,” says owner Steve Mallie, 39. It’s being able to make the sandwich publicly at an announced time, so all the necessary people will be on hand to record and verify the feat for Guinness.
Completed, the burger will be 26 inches across and about 2 feet tall, he says.
And if you and several dozen of your hungriest friends would like one of your own, that can be arranged. It’s being added to the menu, “and with 24 hours’ notice, we’ll make it for you,” Mallie says. The price is $350, which includes fries and pop.
For today’s world-record attempt, chef Art Laramie will use 110 pounds of ground beef to create the prodigious patty, which will shrink to about 80 to 100 pounds as it bakes in the oven for eight hours. “We usually lose about 15 to 25% of the burger weight after it’s cooked,” Mallie says.Assimacopoulos Supreme Bakery Distributors of Romulus will bake the bun, using a special form it had to create for the project.
“The toppings are going to be normal hamburger toppings — cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion, pickle and bacon,” Mallie says.
How much bacon? “Quite a bit. I can’t give away all my secrets.”
“Look at the lengths Dickie V. will go to in order to get Priscilla Presley’s attention!” guffed Rece Davis earlier tonight prior to ESPN’s broadcast of Tennessee at Memphis.
Hey, if Vitale was really stalking Priscilla, he’d have been better off dressing up like this guy.
Cardinals manager Tony La Russa, no stranger to presiding over sluggers suspected of using something-or-other to gain an edge recover quickly, tells the St. Louis Post Dispatch’s Joe Strauss scrutiny of pitcher-turned-outfielder Rich Ankiel is unwarranted. And he may have a point — it’s not like Ankiel fell asleep at the wheel or something.
On Sept. 6 Ankiel included two home runs and seven RBIs among three hits in only seven innings of a 16-4 win over the Pittsburgh Pirates at Busch Stadium. A report surfaced during the team’s charter flight to Arizona of Ankiel’s connection to HGH. The next day Ankiel began an 0-for-19 slump. The Cardinals suffered a series sweep that started a nine-game losing streak and a 2-14 vanishing act from the NL Central race.
Ankiel managed two hits and no RBIs in his first eight games after the revelations were made public.
“It would be tough to say I didn’t struggle with it,” Ankiel said. “Clearly, I was affected by it. I don’t want to make it an excuse. I picked up toward the end. I think it was good for me to go through something like that and find it again.”
La Russa said, “As long as these guys are human beings and somebody is accused of something when they really haven’t done anything wrong … I’m not sure who it’s not going to bother unless it’s the coldest guy on the face of the earth.”
Ankiel received the prescription for HGH from a Palm Beach, Fla., doctor without the club’s knowledge. He took possession of a year’s supply in eight shipments, according to the report. However, La Russa insists Ankiel did nothing illegal and is the victim of media overkill.
“I think the responsibility is with the media that takes a story like that that’s exciting and controversial and gets a lot of publicity. Then all of a sudden, when there’s a reasonable explanation, it gives it one-tenth the amount of attention,” La Russa said. “If I was Rick, I wouldn’t answer another question about it. He’s already talked to MLB about it. He answered questions at the time.
“What bothers me is you get accused of something dramatic … when something comes around to explain it and the guy’s not really guilty, that doesn’t receive anywhere near the same attention.”
The University Of Texas’ website tells us DH Kyle Keyes (lying prone on the Disch-Falk Astroturf, above) went 2 for 3 with 3 runs scored in the Longhorns’ 17-4 drubbing of Virginia Commonwealth earlier today. Said report failed to mention that Keyes was brutally beaned in the home half of the 8th inning by struggling Rams righty Brett Walker, who silenced the assembled throng by drilling the Texas freshman in the left side of the skull.
After lying face down at home plate for a spell, Keyes was helped off the field and Walker resumed throwing batting practice. Texas reliever Chance Ruffin (3.1 IP, no hits or walks) struck out the side in the top of the 9th. Whether throwing at anyone’s head occurred to him or not, I cannot say, but I’m sure Shawn Estes would’ve been satisfied with the effort, if not the results.
Never mind the likely perjury indictment for the Rocket ; when’s Rusty Hardin gonna get disbarred?
According to Emery, the photos in question have been turned over to federal investigators and Congress. Brian McNamee’s attorney Richard Emery told The News that McNamee’s lawyers, including Earl Ward, were called by the father of the boy in the photo following the Feb. 13 hearing in which Clemens faced off against McNamee. The boy was about 11 at the time the photo was taken.
The father of the boy informed McNamee’s lawyers that he was frustrated by the attacks on McNamee, particularly those of committee member Dan Burton (R-Ind.), who repeatedly called McNamee a liar. The man told the lawyers about the photo of his son, and also that he had contacted Hardin before the hearing.
“I find it interesting that it was offered to Hardin on Feb. 12 – and he walked away from it, probably because he didn’t want any contradictory evidence that showed Clemens was at the party,” Emery said.
The above excerpt from today’s New York Daily News follows a Clemens quote from February 13 in which admitted that he might’ve “dropped my wife or her brother-in-law” off at the Canseco bash. Even Wayne Gretzky thinks Debbie Clemens is being hung out to dry.
Recalling Colin Cowherd’s ill-advised attempts to shut down The Big Lead, the card-carrying Mensa members at Kissing Suzy Kolber have proposed other web outlets they’d like to see obliterated (”there are a whole bunch of shitty ass sites out there, some of them downright fucking infuriating. So let’s use this draft to select a few we’d like to see fall victim to a deadly server hamster mass genocide”). Captain Caveman aka With Leather’s Matt Ufford (above) selected The Big Lead.
“What’s to dislike most about The Big Lead? Is it the Jackie Harvey cluelessness? The ironic attempt at credibility while staying anonymous? His admission that he puts less effort than he used to into writing posts so that he can churn out more of them and increase his traffic? Nah, I’m gonna go with the final ‘question’ from his interview with Chuck Klosterman: ‘Tell us something interesting’. That site is an insult to people who think.”
Though I’ve already slapped the Jackie Harvey tag on Sports By Brooks multiple times, I can only presume Ufford thinks it’s far better to remain anonymous in this glorious field. I’m not quite sure how With Leather’s attempts to generate traffic are any less cynical or more thoughtful than those of TBL, it would be nice to know what really touched this whole thing off. You’ve all seen what happens on bad TV comedies when two girls turn up at a party wearing the same dress. Apparently, things can become just as heated when two guys upload identical Scarlett Johannson pics to their sports blogs.
While the Knicks showed some all too rare tenacity in bouncing back from a blowout loss in Philly with last night’s home win over Toronto (43 points from Jamal Crawford, 26 points and 15 rebounds from Zach Randolph), all New Yorkers if not members of the human race should be concerned by the Isiah Thomas’ remarks before the game. From the New York Times’ Howard Beck :
“We want to keep moving in the right direction, and we definitely don’t want to take a step back,” Thomas said in explaining his failure to make a deal. “As painful as this has been and as painful as it is, including for myself, the most important thing is that we don’t do anything that’s going to damage us three, four years down the road.”
Thomas said the Knicks had “good young players” and “good talent.” Other general managers say the Knicks have just three players whom other teams find attractive — Crawford, David Lee and Nate Robinson. Those are the three players Thomas is most opposed to trading.
“I think the most important thing is that we didn’t take a step back,” Thomas said. “We didn’t try to save the day with that one savior bad contract that goes on for a lifetime.”
Someone really needs to ask James Dolan, “what have you done with the real Isiah?” Trying to mollify an enraged fan base with “that one savior bad contract that goes on for a lifetime” is as much a hallmark of Thomas’ legacy as running the CBA into the ground or a romantic evening watching “Love & Basketball” on DVD. However, quizzing the Cablevision heir remains a considerable challenge, as Newsday’s Anthony Reiber explains.
It’s unknown if the Knicks’ 17th win of the season in their 55th game made Dolan happy. He brushed past three reporters who attempted to interview him in the tunnel outside the Raptors’ locker room as he left the arena.
“No,” he said when asked if he would talk.
“Please don’t do that,” said a Garden spokesman who practically flung himself in the reporters’ paths, hands outstretched to prevent any contact with Dolan. Green-jacketed Garden security officers then stepped in to shield Dolan from any more attempts to ask questions.
Former WFAN reprobate Sid Rosenberg would like everyone to know that he’s a) still alive, b) gainfully employed in radio, c) he’s D’Angelo to Imus’ Avon and c) he thinks Craig Carton and Boomer Esiason will soon be “fired for sucking”. (audio link swiped from Watchdog)
The Guardian’s Paolo Bandini and Tom Lutz deserve some kind of special prize this Friday evening — who else in the world of soccer journalism would be savvy enough to turn alleged police brutality in Madrid into an excuse for a gratuitious shot at Jack Johnson?
ZANG! ZIP! ZANG! Oh, hello readers, the Fiver was just trying out Gary Megson’s Reverse Cr@pulator, a modern day marvel machine with the ability to turn grub into gold, Jack Johnson into Bob Dylan and stultifyingly dull relegation contenders Bolton Wanderers into stultifyingly dull Euro Vase contenders Bolton Wanderers. Megson first tested it upon himself, of course, transforming himself from an incompetent laughing stock into a small fiery God of the touchline. Nowhere was that more evident than last night as Bolton bored Atlético Madrid out of existence to claim a place in the last 16 of the Vase.
That’s not all Gary’s been doing though. Last night he turned the Cr@pulator on his own fans, transforming the humble English troublemaker from a fearsome defender of the English right to spend a penny in those fancy foreign fountains into a defenceless victim of baton-wielding Spanish police. “The club’s fans were subjected to a number of assaults and unprovoked baton charges before, during and after the game, in addition to the aggressive use of police horses to manoeuvre fans towards the stadium,” said a Bolton suit today, in a deliciously long statement that pushed the Fiver towards its target word count. “Bolton Wanderers supporters have an impeccable reputation and an excellent record of good behaviour when travelling abroad to European matches, and the club believes the actions of the Madrid police are entirely unacceptable.”
Now, there have been complaints from Spain that Bolton fans were throwing plastic bottles at Atléti fans during the game, but that hardly warrants a swingers-skull combo from a policeman’s truncheon.
From the Herald Times’ James Boyd :
Kelvin Sampson is no longer the men’s basketball coach at Indiana University.
Sampson agreed to a $750,000 buyout today, with the university naming Dan Dakich as the interim head coach.
As part of the settlement, Sampson will agree to forgo the right to file future lawsuits against the university for wrongful termination or any other action.
Sampson is facing five potentially “major” NCAA violations, stemming from various calls to recruits.
IU President Michael McRobbie announced a week ago the formation of an internal investigating body that was to look into whether Sampson lied to both university and NCAA officials.
The results of that investigation haven’t been revealed yet.
While I mean no disrespect to the well-regarded Dakich, this Hoosier squad is sorely in need of a talismanic figure who can function as a bridge to their glorious past and potentially rosy future. I implore the University’s athletic deparment and board of regents to hotly pursue the only man who meets the above criteria.
The only question is whether or not James Dolan will let him go.
It didn’t make much of an impression on me last month when Pepperdine’s head coach, Vance Wahlberg, a former junior college coach with some renown as an offensive technician, resigned as the Waves coach just a couple of games into the WCC conference season. If I think of Pepperdine at all, it’s as the place that throws professorships at dubious conservative intellectual lights from Ken Starr to Ben Stein. But apparently it was bigger news than I thought.
That’s because the offense that Walberg (above) invented — he called it “Attack Attack Skip Attack Attack,” which John Calipari shortened to “Dribble-Drive Motion” when he adopted it at Memphis several years ago — is currently in use all over basketball. Memphis, which you might’ve heard is undefeated and will face #2 Tennessee tomorrow night, runs it. St. Anthony’s of Jersey City, currently the top-ranked prep team in the US, runs it. The Boston Celtics even run a variation on it. All this while Vance sits home and fends off prank calls asking how Donnie is doing.
I wouldn’t know about any of this if it weren’t for Benjamin Polk mentioning the existence of a Sports Illustrated article about Walberg and his nutty offense on the Minneapolis CityPages’ Balls! Blog. Anyone who knows Ben knows that he’s seldom if ever wrong — except, I think, about how good Animal Collective is — and I think he’s right on when he writes of said piece, “The article is pretty good, for Sports Illustrated (not too much about what John Calipari’s Mom taught him about commitment or whatever, more about basketball) and the discussion of the offense is really interesting if you like that kind of stuff.”
I do, and I also like this article, which touches not only on the nuts and bolts of Walberg’s offense — which gives unprecedented leeway to players to create, and is part of the reason why it seems like Memphis is always taking layups — but on the weird networks through which things like offenses travel from coach to coach. I’m going to clip from two parts of the fairly long piece, but I’d say the whole piece is worth reading, if you like this kind of thing. Grant Wahl writes:
In California’s Central Valley, where Walberg, 51, coached for 13 seasons at Clovis West High and four at Fresno City College, his high-pressure offense and defense have changed the way an entire region plays basketball. “It totally blew up here,” says Fresno Central High coach Loren LeBeau, one of Walberg’s former assistants. “We’re in the top league in Fresno, and four of the six teams are running this style.” Under coach Tom Gonsalves, the girls’ team at St. Mary’s High in Stockton has gone 25-0 and risen to No. 9 in the nation using DDM. Another practitioner, coach Jeff Klein at Chaffey Community College in Rancho Cucamonga, describes the system this way: “It’s almost like Vance invented a new language.”
The Denver Nuggets are running elements of DDM, and so are the Boston Celtics. “[Calipari] and I fax each other,” says Celtics coach Doc Rivers. Meanwhile, one vocal DDM skeptic has changed his mind. “If I were fortunate enough to get back into coaching, I’d seek Vance’s help in a minute,” says Brown, who joined Calipari and Walberg last September at a clinic in Mississippi attended by more than 400 high school coaches. “When I was coaching UCLA, everybody ran the high-post offense and the 2-2-1 press because of Coach [John] Wooden. He won 10 national titles, so you could understand that. But to see all these people who are incorporating what Vance does is mind-boggling…”
Why change? It may seem obvious now that they’re coaching the nation’s top-ranked teams in college and high school basketball, but Calipari and Hurley didn’t need to overhaul their systems. Calipari, 49, had won 336 games in college and the NBA and had reached three Sweet 16s, two Elite Eights and a Final Four when he and Walberg sat down for dinner that night at Cal’s Championship Steakhouse. During his first three seasons at Memphis, however, Calipari had coached in only one NCAA tournament game. “It’s like you’re a teacher, and you’re teaching for 15 years, and your lesson plan never changed,” he says. “This has been invigorating for me because it’s gotten me to think, to study the game again.”
(Bob) Hurley, 60, had won 22 state championships, nearly 900 games and two mythical national titles as head coach at St. Anthony when he adopted dribble-drive in the fall of 2005. “I’ve had very few original thoughts in my life,” Hurley says, “but I’m smart enough to take from people who are successful and seem to have a greater view of the game. We got to a point where kids spent more time in the weight room than out on the court working on skills. [Dribble-drive] gets you working on skills. You can move your center around. It doesn’t have to be mud-wrestling where just the stronger, more physical, more athletic kids win.”
I understand Ben’s suspicion about SI pieces in general — that magazine did make Rick Reilly rich, after all — but between this and the very good profile of Rick Majerus from last month, I’ll admit to being impressed. Who knew a well-reported and decently written article about sports could be so enjoyable?
The New York Post’s Phil Mushnick takes a dim view of the sports blogosphere exulting in the laff riot that is Chris Berman’s YouTube bloopers. “These recordings made their way out of ESPN and then to the Internet,” rages Mushnick, “the new favorite stomping grounds for eavesdroppers, vandals, voyeurs and naughty little boys and girls of all ages.” Hey, he forgot “shitheads”.
While not normally moved to defend ESPN’s Chris Berman, he’s no less a sympathetic figure than any other victim of a theft.
And while Berman, who by now should have grown to fully respected status among American sportscasters, instead chooses to play the circus clown who shoots himself out of a cannon, he doesn’t deserve this kind of grief.
For starters, these recordings were stolen from ESPN.
Perhaps they were stolen by some young, male wise guy, someone from the demographic ESPN encourages to watch ESPN. But theft is theft. And unless Berman is legally being investigated, perhaps as a threat to national security, the distribution of his purloined workplace conversations make him the victim of a crime.
In Berman’s case, he was mugged not by himself but by an insider or insiders, a person or persons once and perhaps still with ESPN. Berman’s a crime victim. And there’s no better place for the unaccountable to do dirt to the accountable than the ‘net.
I guess we can only presume Phil wasn’t a big Negativland fan back in the day, either. I’ll tell you what’s really criminal, though. This story is so done and dusted, had Mushnick weighed in on the subject last Friday, he’d still be hopelessly behind the times. What’s worse, “stealing” a dusty videoclip from the ESPN archives, or Phil collecting a paycheck by editorializing on a subject the eavesdroppers, vandals and voyeurs have already covered to death?
While we’re on the matter of voyeurs, let’s not forget it was just last week Mushnick’s paper decided the sex life of a private citizen (neither charged nor suspected of a crime) was worthy of the front page. It’s a shame there’s not a major tabloid journalist wiling to defend Richard Benjamin’s privacy, but perhaps we’ll have to wait for the photos of Boomer in a dog collar before the Post’s sports media maven is sufficiently outraged.
The Independent’s Damon Wake reports retired sprinter Linford Christie will not participate in a relay carrying the Olympic torch through London.
Christie (above, left) received a letter from London Mayor Ken Livingstone inviting him to take part in April’s torch procession, but a spokesman for the Mayor said it had been sent by mistake.
The 47-year-old has a lifetime Olympic ban after testing positive for the steroid nandrolone in 1999, and international Olympic officials condemned the decision to invite him to the torch event.
The Mayor’s spokesman said: “The decision to invite Linford Christie to be a torchbearer was not taken by the Mayor.
“The decision to invite Linford Christie was taken by officials and was a mistake.”
Christie, who won gold in the 100m at the 1992 Barcelona games and has always denied taking the banned drug, was sent the letter “as a formality”, the spokesman said.
Yesterday Emmanuelle Moreau, from the International Olympic Committee, said: “We would have certainly strongly recommended not to give an invitation to an athlete who has an Olympic ban.”
There’s still plenty of time, by the way, for the Astros to tell Roger Clemens they’d rather not have him throw out the ceremonial first pitch on Opening Day.
Watch your back, Kuff & The Butt Heads. The Seattle Weekly’s Damon Agnos might be hot on your trail (if he ever adds vocals to the musical accompaniment).
With all due respect to the New York Daily News’ scoop about Roger Clemens being photographed at that wild Jose Canseco party he swore to Congress he’d not attended, the following item from the New York Post’s Kati Cornell is the frontrunner for Friday’s story of the day.
Former Mets sparkplug Lenny Dykstra sounded ready to charge the mound yesterday after finding out he’s being sued by a Midtown accounting firm that says he took a walk on a $111,000 tab.
“These are the guys that charged a hundred grand to try to do my taxes. What does that tell you?” an incredulous Dykstra said in a phone interview yesterday.
The suit filed in Manhattan federal court by DDK & Company claims Dykstra and his wife, Terry, refused to pay for services provided between February and June of 2007 – racking up a bill that has since grown to nearly $139,000 with penalties.
The former All-Star said he felt personally betrayed by the lawsuit because the accountant who worked on his return, Jeffrey Feinman, is someone he considered a good friend.
“He stayed at my house. He supposedly was my buddy. I took him to 50 dinners – steak and lobster,” said the star outfielder, who now lives in Southern California. “The dinners were OK . . . but I didn’t know I was going to pay for them twice.”
Not to cast aspersions on Ms. Cornell’s journalistic chops, but something seems fishy here. We’re supposed to believe she spoke with Lenny Dykstra for more than 30 seconds and not once did he utter the word, “dude”?
